


Double My Dosage

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Alcohol, Clubbing, M/M, References to Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 12:52:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849776
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clothes may make the man, but Jason makes Tim's <em>night</em>. And that's so much better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Double My Dosage

**Author's Note:**

> **Story Notes** : I've been working on this for two days and finally, it's done and I feel good about it. If you want to read the story for the thin plot, but porn isn't your thing (but sensuality/flirting is), read up to " Maybe it'll even be fun" and then stop before that bullet point.  
>  **Title Notes** : Title from the end of Nicki Minaj's verse in Bottoms Up.

Clubs aren’t usually Tim’s thing.

He’s gone to them before, on missions or when Steph needs a break from college stress and boredom, but he doesn’t make it a point to visit them on his own unless he’s in serious need of a different kind of downtime.

This time it’s for a mission, recon of the highest importance for a case he’s been feeling out for several weeks while the GCPD continues to run in circles around a series of overdoses from some new drug that their systems can’t analyze. Tim makes an effort to look like he belongs on the dance floor of the popular alternative nightclub instead of a complete outsider.

Judging by the way the bouncer at the club spends more time staring at his body than at his fake ID; Tim assumes that he more than fits the role he’s trying to fill.

The leather shorts that stop several inches above his knees help a bit.

The scars striping Tim’s pale thighs help even more.

It’s that kind of club after all…

With his dark hair hanging loose around his shoulders and stark black make up ringing his eyes, Tim barely looks his age. He looks young and oddly vulnerable in all that black leather, like he’s playing dress-up for the night. Maybe that’s why it only takes ten minutes for him to get in the club as other (older) people stand in line and stomp their feet in the cold.

Once inside the club, the sound of thudding techno beats in his ears makes Tim flinch. He almost reaches up to cover his ears before remembering that he’s supposed to act like someone who seeks out this type of music on purpose. Normal kids don’t cover their ears in the face of music that they  _like_  and so Tim curls his fingers into fists at his sides and forces himself to breathe past the pulse of music in his head that almost feels alive.

Focusing on being “normal” gets Tim through the crush of the crowd around him as he glances around and tries to find the usual suspects for this sort of thing — the bright-eyed girls that work as dealers within the club and the twitchy drug users doing their best to stay out of the spinning spotlights in the club’s main floor.

As he pushes through the crowd of people between the door and the bar, Tim does his best to keep an eye out for the suppliers, but can’t look too closely unless he wants to wind up blowing it all before he even gets started.

Later, once Tim has been at the club longer, he’ll make a point to find answers for what he’s seeking. It shouldn’t be hard. There are few secrets in Gotham that Robin isn’t privy to and whatever it is going on with this drug will soon be one of those secrets.

But for the moment, all Tim can do is look eager and interested in the warm bodies taking up space around him instead of sort of cagey as he checks the exits and avoids gropers.

Making sure to smile and look just the right kind of vacant gets him to the bar that wraps around a massive supporting post in the center of the club where he finds a clean-enough barstool on which to perch. The gleaming chrome seat feels like _ice_  against the backs of Tim’s thighs and he stiffens up, shuddering as a chill stabs through his body. Before Tim can adjust to the chilly seat and focus on his plan for reconnaissance, he hears a familiar voice coming from behind him.

“That’s what happens when you don’t wear real clothes outside, baby bird.”

By now, Tim can recognize Jason’s voice under every circumstance or condition.

He barely twitches when Jason slides onto the barstool beside him and motions for the bartender to come closer with an imperious wave of one big hand.  Dressed in ripped black jeans and a red t-shirt that pulls taut over his broad shoulders every time he moves, Jason looks as though he belongs in the club. He looks like he should be working the bar or bouncing assholes out of the back door when they give him lip.

Tim lets his gaze drift over Jason’s body for a long moment before he drags his eyes away with more effort than he feels comfortable thinking about.

“Why are you here, Jason?”

Crossing his arms over his chest makes the netting of Tim’s fishnet shirt scratch over his skin, the faintness of that almost-pain making Tim’s nipples perk up and pay attention. Tim very carefully doesn’t blush when Jason’s eyes drift downward and sort of stay staring at where Tim’s nipples peek out pink from behind the lines of black netting trying (and failing) to cover his skin.

Jason shrugs, opens his mouth as if to grant Tim a wholly unhelpful answer, and then falls silent once the bartender finally makes his way over to their end of the bar. “Let’s have a Guinness and then see if you can make something fruity for the kid,” Jason says, smirking a bit at the affronted squawking noise that Tim can’t keep himself from uttering.

The bartender doesn’t bother asking for ID. He makes their drinks in record time and smirks a bit when he takes the twenty that Jason slides across the sticky countertop. “Enjoy your drinks,” he says, gaze lingering a little too long on Tim’s mouth before Jason clears his throat and the man bolts as though he’s been frightened.

Tim waits for Jason to take a deep sip of his beer before speaking to him again. “You never answered my question, Jason,” he says just loud enough to be heard over the loud music pumping from the speakers overhead. “Why are you here?”

“Daddy sent me along as backup in case anything goes wrong,” Jason says with a wide smile on his face as he watches Tim fidget in his chair. “Now drink your cocktail, baby. I didn’t drop fourteen bucks on it only for you to ignore it.”

“I don’t need backup,” Tim says, narrowing his eyes at Jason even as he reaches out to curl his fingers around the stem of the cocktail glass and tug it over the bar towards him. He lowers his mouth to the rim of the glass and takes a small sip, fully expecting it to taste sugar sweetness overlaying strong liquor. When he tastes a tropical sweetness on his tongue that isn’t followed by the burn of any alcohol, Tim blinks at Jason in stunned silence.

Jason smirks. “Were you expecting alcohol?”

Blinking at Jason over the rim of his ridiculously sweet drink, Tim says, “You didn’t ask for a non-alcoholic drink.” Alcoholic or not, the drink tastes great and feels nice and cool as it liquid trickles down his throat. “But I like it.”

“Do you like it enough to let me be your backup,” Jason asks. Sprawling against the chair as though he’s never sat somewhere as comfortable before, Jason licks his lips and runs the tips of his long fingers over the condensation trickling down the side of his glass. “Besides, you’re jailbait. What kind of backup would I be if I let you get wasted on the job?”

Tim snorts into his drink. He takes long swallows until his glass is almost empty and then licks first at his lips and then at the front of his teeth in an attempt to try and rid them of the sticky sweetness. “If I’m not allowed to drink,” Tim says, settling in against his chair and trying not to wince when his shorts start to ride up, “Then why are you drinking a beer?”

Jason rolls his eyes and makes sure that Tim can see it. “I’m older than you are, kid, and besides, I know how to hold my liquor.” Jason smiles at Tim and then nudges the beer across the top of the bar towards him. “You can have a sip if you want.”

“No thanks,” Tim says firmly. “The only thing I’m drinking after this is water. You can keep your beer.” Sitting with Jason has eaten up its fair share of time, and it’s been fun, but Tim has a job to do and he can’t get it done if he’s at the bar. When Tim makes to get off the barstool, he’s not expecting Jason to reach out and snag one of the chains dangling from the side of his shorts.

Frowning, Tim turns around with sharp words on the tip of his tongue. The heated look on Jason’s face dries the words up in his mouth before they can escape. Tim winds up stuttering, stammering as Jason hauls him close without waiting for the soles of his combat boots to touch the sticky floor around the bar.

“H-hey,” he blurts out when Jason squeezes him with the vise of his strong thighs. “I want to get out on the floor.”

“Not without me,” Jason says firmly. He finishes his beer while Tim struggles half-heartedly against him and then uncurls his fingers from the loop of silver chain. He releases Tim and then rises to his feet, towering over Tim despite his heavy boots. “B told me what you were here for and I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Tim tilts his head up so that he can look at Jason’s face. He doesn’t hide any of his emotions as he glowers up at Jason.

“Being my backup doesn’t mean that you get to ruin my night,” Tim hisses, lifting up onto the tips of his toes so that he doesn’t have to shout in order for Jason to hear him. He ignores the shudder that runs through him when Jason’s hand lands on the small of his back, fingers curling in against the leather of his shorts in a way that feels entirely too possessive, and forces himself to continue speaking against Jason’s ear. “You’ll scare everyone away. No one will talk to me if you’re standing around behind me.”

Besides that —

If Jason is following him around the club and eyeing him like a hawk, Tim won’t be able to try and cut loose. After all, they’ve only just graduated to semi-friendly conversation. Dancing together in a drunken crush of bodies would push things to another level that they’re not even close to being on with each other.

“You can watch me from here,” Tim says as his fingers press into the firm muscles of Jason’s flexing shoulders. “I won’t go far if that’s what you’re worried about and I know the drill: don’t go off with strangers unless you’re waiting for me.”

Tim licks his lips nervously and then stills, suddenly very aware of how close he is to Jason’s hard body. Every breath Tim takes makes his chest rise and fall against the scratchy netting of his shirt and Jason’s hard chest. He can smell Jason’s scent with no fillers, a mix of gun oil and the faded smoky smell of his clove cigarettes lingering in  his short black hair. This close, Tim’s brain spirals off in all sorts of directions with his thoughts on reconnaissance slipping out of his head for the moment.

Jason’s fingers flex against Tim’s spine through his shirt. With the netting in the way, there’s no way for Tim to feel his calluses, but Tim has always had a pretty healthy imagination. Jason holds Tim in place against him, keeping Tim balanced on the tips of his toes as they stand in between their abandoned barstools.

“It’s only recon,” Jason says lowly. “I’ve memorized the files myself. B said you don’t  _need_  to talk to anyone —”

Tim interrupts Jason before the other man can get started. “I don’t need to,” Tim says sharply, still speaking into Jason’s ear. “But it would help my notes if I could talk to regulars before I come back for the real deal.”

Jason shakes his head and the hand against Tim’s lower back presses in lightly. “B said not to.”

“This isn’t his mission,” Tim says softly, fighting against a sudden, childish urge to shout in Jason’s ear. “If I want to talk to people, I will. He can’t stop me and neither can you.” When Jason makes a low, angry sound against him, Tim does his level best not to melt against the other man out of some damnable, indefinable instinct that he can’t quite ignore. “If you feel like you need to come with me, I hope you’re fine with being my boyfriend for the night. That’s the only thing I can pass you off as aside from a bodyguard.”

Jason pulls back just far enough for Tim to see the hunger simmering just underneath the surface of his blue eyes. He licks his lips slowly, almost lewdly and rocks his hips against Tim’s stomach, letting him feel the heat and rigidness of his erection dragging against his abdomen. The heat of Jason against him makes Tim shiver slightly, mind and heart racing as several questions he didn’t know he had in his head finally get answered.

“I think I can handle that,” Jason says in a low,  _rough_  voice. “Question is, baby: Can you?”

*

The only way that Jason will agree to let Tim go out on the crowded dance floor is if he goes as well.  

Tim leads the way through the crowd of dancers, towing Jason after him by curling his fingers around the other man’s thick wrist. No one in the crowd looks at them askance, but Tim does catch a few envious looks cast their way. Whether or not those looks are directed at him or at Jason Tim doesn’t know, but he does his best not to let it bother him.

“You were looking at those girls when you walked in,” Jason says, leaning forward so that he doesn’t have to shout over the music blaring around them. His stubble scratches over Tim’s skin as he talks and Tim stiffens slightly before forcing himself to relax.

He tilts his head to one side and Tim turns to look at that direction, gaze falling on the two girls. Sharing a drink and passing out neon green lollipops to anyone that comes by, the two young women are the only people sitting across from each other in a booth that can comfortably hold eight people max and they keep glancing about as though looking for trouble.

When Tim nods, Jason makes a noise of approval and continues speaking. “We’ll go closer then,” he says lowly. “You talk to them while I hang back and look non-threatening.”

“You? Non-threatening?” Tim laughs softly. “Have you looked in a mirror lately, Jason? You’re pretty far away from that.” Before Jason can respond to him, Tim smiles and pats him on one strong forearm. “Let’s go. You can practice your glares on anyone that tries to get close to us. Deal?”

Jason nods and then allows Tim to tow him through the crowd towards the two girls in their bright outfits. “It’s a deal.” The crowd isn’t easy to maneuver through at first, but once Tim starts to use his pointy little elbows as weapons, people can’t get out of their way fast enough. They clear the dance floor in record time and Tim pushes Jason gently in the direction one of the empty booths that sits cattycorner to the one with his quarry.

“Stay here,” Tim says firmly, and then he’s off, walking to the booth where the two girls watch him with wide eyes. He puts a little extra into his walk, a little swish in his hips that draws attention to his body and not the serious look on his face. Undercover work is Tim’s thing, just ask Bruce and Alfred how many time’s he’s been pimped and poked until he can fit whatever disguise they need for the mission.

He’s just a little out of practice.

The girls look him up and down with measuring looks almost too sharp for their surroundings. On Tim’s left, a tiny Asian girl with neon pink stripes in her dark hair pops her gum as a small frown draws her plucked eyebrows together above her big brown eyes eyes.

“Whaddaya want,” she asks, frowning at Tim. “Can’t you see I’m busy here?” She eyes Tim’s outfit, the unbroken black of his shirt, shorts, and boots, and her lipsticked mouth curls with distaste. “Don’t you have a funeral to crash?”

Her partner (a tall girl with pale yellow hair that looks like a bee in a black and yellow minidress so bright that it sears Tim’s eyes in the dimly lit club) giggles.

“Be nice, Trina,” she says. “He’s obviously looking to score some Zee.” Leaning over the top of the table, the blonde-haired woman beams at Tim and wiggles her fingers as she gestures for him to come closer until his hip bumps the front of their table. “Besides, he’s kinda cute. Not like some of the other Goths running around this place.”

Trina narrows her eyes at her friend. “Zip it, Carly.”

With her friend effectively silenced, Trina turns her sharp gaze up at Tim. “Thanks to the boss, the first hit’s free,” she says with an almost angry look on her face that leads Tim to believe that she has no love for her mysterious supplier. “What’ll it be, gothboy? Pills or a pop?”

Jabbing his thumb over one shoulder in Jason’s general direction, Tim tries to seem a little desperate and a little eager. “If I say I’m sharing with my boyfriend, can I get one of each?”

“You can get two of each it’ll keep you out of my hair,” Trina says as Carly starts pulling packets of brightly colored pills and plastic-wrapped lollipops out of her pockets. She waits until Tim stuffs two packets of pills and two of those green lollipops into one of the tiny pockets in his shorts before snapping her fingers at him in order to get his attention. “If you come by again tonight, I’ll charge you double.”

Cocking his hip, Tim makes a face at Trina. “And how much is double?”

“You couldn’t afford it, kid. Now scram,” Trina says. “We have actual paying customers and you’re in the way.”

So Tim scrams on command, trotting back to where Jason sits sprawled in his booth. Trina doesn’t like anyone it seems, but Tim isn’t about to press his luck by trying to pick her brain when she’s likely to hurt him for it.

Feeling the girls’ stares like a weight against his spine, Tim makes a show of climbing into Jason’s lap and pressing up against him like there’s no other place that he’d want to be. Tim lowers his lips to Jason’s ear so that he can speak without anyone overhearing him.

“I have them,” Tim says, priding himself on how he keeps from shuddering when Jason’s fingers slide down to tease over his skin through the netting. “Two of each type of the drug they’re selling. They’re in my pocket.” Jason’s hand slides down to palm Tim’s ass under the pretext of searching his back pockets and only instinct keeps Tim from pulling away and ruining their cover.

When Jason’s fingers slide down the crease of Tim’s ass through his shorts, Tim yelps and reaches back to swat Jason’s hands away until the other man gets the hint and rests his hands back on his hips above the waistband of his shorts.

“Don’t push your luck,” Tim says sharply, pulling back so that he can frown at Jason’s face. “Not here. Not now.”

“So when  _do_  I get to jump your bones,” Jason asks, smiling in that easy way that never fails to make Tim feel like hiding his face. He releases Tim so that the other man can wriggle out of his lap and move to stand in front of him with his thumbs hooked in the belt loops of his tiny shorts. “You have what you wanted —”

Tim allows himself an inelegant snort. “I have  _some_  of what I need,” he says, cutting Jason off midsentence with his correction. “I’ll have to come back later in the week to try and get info on their suppliers. We should call it a night.” Tim turns his face towards the club’s main exit. “Come on, Jason. The sooner we leave, the sooner I can have the drug analyzed in the lab.”

Before Tim can start to head off in the direction of the main exit, Jason’s fingers curl around his wrist and hold him in place. “I thought you wanted to dance.”

Tim’s mind races, but he can’t remember actually  _saying_  anything of that sort. Longing looks aside, Jason’s not supposed to notice things like that.

“I — You don’t have to dance with me,” Tim says in a low voice. When Jason tugs him close, Tim goes without complaint, looping his arms around Jason’s neck and sighing when Jason’s beer-scented breath fans over his skin. “I can come back. With Steph, maybe, or Cass if she’s in the mood. You don’t have to —”

Jason shakes his head.

“I want to,” he says in a low voice that barely reaches Tim’s ears. “Besides, if we leave here, what makes you think you’d be going home alone?” Jason starts to rub at Tim’s wrist with his thick fingers, stroking against the pressure points there until Tim makes a low noise and presses close. “We’ve been dancing around it all night, but I think you know that I have plans for you, baby bird.”

Tim flushes vividly enough that the red in his cheeks is visible even in the dark nightclub. “And just  _what_  are those plans?”

Smirking widely enough to show the edge of one sharp canine tooth, Jason curls his fingers in against the jut of Tim’s hip and pulls him in until their bodies press together. Neither Tim’s shorts nor Jason’s jeans manage to hide the fact that their bodies are reacting to their proximity. Heat surges between them, slow at first, but then faster as Jason starts to rub his fingers against Tim’s skin through his fishnet shirt.

Tim can’t remember the last time he’s ever wanted to kiss any this badly.

“Dance with me first,” Jason orders in a firm voice as Tim just stands there and stares. “Then I’ll fill you in.”

“One dance,” Tim says, trying not to let his amusement at Jason shine through on his face. “One dance and then we’ll talk. Try not to feel me up too much?” When Jason gets in one last good grope, Tim huffs and rolls his eyes. “That’s your last freebie for a long while. I hope you realize that.”

Jason stands up and Tim tilts his head back to get a better look at him.

“We should go before you change your mind,” Jason says, pushing past Tim and then reaching back so that he can grab hold of Tim’s wrist and pull him in the direction of the writing mass of bodies on the dance floor where the music seems louder. “Lighten up, it won’t be that bad.”

Tim has doubts, but he doesn’t dare voice any of them out loud. It’ll be nice to dance with someone that isn’t a stranger. Sure, Jason will probably take any chance to feel him up while they dance, but it’s not remotely unwanted. Tim has never danced with Jason, not even with their rapidly thawing relationship. He has no idea if Jason even  _can_  dance, but —

Maybe it’ll even be fun.

*

“This isn’t dancing,” Tim says, voice catching as Jason pushes his fingers up underneath the netting of his shirt and starts to stroke his skin with light touches. When Jason starts to thumb his nipples, Tim groans and bucks against him, feeling heat warm his cheeks as arousal coils in his stomach. “Jason, I —”

Jason smirks down at Tim and pinches the other man’s nipples. “Sure it is,” he says as he watches Tim try to keep from falling apart at the seams under his touches. “It’s just another kind of dancing.” Leaning in, Jason presses a slow, deep kiss to Tim’s mouth, drawing it out until Tim makes an eager noise into the kiss and grabs at him with shaking fingers.

“And you want to do this here?” Tim asks, gesturing at the dark balcony area overlooking the nightclub’s first floor.

With the music still thumping heavily around them, there’s no chance of anyone overhearing them. The door and the winding staircase leading up to the balcony that forms a secondary VIP area have been hidden behind a dusty bit of wood paneling for years. No one even knows that they’re up there in the first place and the chances of someone walking in on them is next to zero.

However, there’s nothing stopping anyone from simply looking up and seeing them and Tim says as much as he looks up at Jason’s handsome face.

“Live a little, baby bird,” Jason says, settling the palm of one hand firmly over Tim’s hip. His calluses scratch a little over Tim’s skin and when Tim hisses softly, he leans in to kiss him again. Pressing Tim back against the uneven wall behind them, Jason nudges Tim to wrap his legs around Jason’s waist so that they can kiss without Tim needing to crane his neck.

Jason still tastes like Guinness and the press of his mouth makes Tim feel drunk off desire. Tim’s fingers flex against Jason’s shoulders, tugging at the soft fabric of Jason’s red shirt before pushing his fingers up into the other man’s thick black hair. Tugging at Jason’s hair makes their kiss deepen further, turning into something more intimate that leaves Tim hard and aching against the front of his shorts.

Pulling back slightly, Tim groans from low in his throat and pets Jason’s cheeks with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve wanted to do this all night,” Tim admits as Jason’s body moves between his thighs, grinding in against his groin until stars flash in front of his eyes and Tim’s body arches away from the wall.

Jason smiles down at Tim, crooked white teeth flashing brightly in the spinning spotlights ricocheting around the club. “You know what I’ve wanted to do all night?”

“N-no?” Tim shakes his head, feeling confusion twist inside of him when Jason allows him to slide down the wall until his feet rest firmly on solid ground. When Jason drops to his knees a few moments later, Tim gets it.

Boy does he get it…

Jason makes short work of the zipper and buttons holding Tim’s shorts closed. The pants hit the ground with a dull thud as the chains and buckles knock against the balcony’s floor, leaving Tim bare from the waist down. Jason doesn’t bother waiting. He grips Tim’s hips, pinning them against the wall so that Tim can’t move when Jason leans in to lick a wet line up his shaft.

Tim moans loudly, eyes flying open as Jason goes down on him. “F-fuck!”

Jason laughs around him, sending pleasurable vibrations all the way up Tim’s spine. He starts to work himself on Tim’s dick, bobbing his head quickly and taking in as much of Tim as he can until Tim whines and tries to grab for him. That grab makes Jason utter a low noise around the dick in his mouth, a low noise that tears a higher, needier one right out of Tim’s open mouth. More importantly, it makes Jason slow down, drawing out the process of driving Tim up a wall with the slow strokes of his tongue.

Tim can’t think. He can barely breathe when it comes right down to it. The heat and tight suction of Jason’s mouth around his dick go a long way to shorting out all of Tim’s higher brain functions until he’s a few short seconds away from sobbing Jason’s name or beating his fists against the wall behind him.

“Come  _on_ ,” Tim shouts, voice cracking with frustration when Jason pulls off of his dick with a slick sound.

For a moment, Tim stops hearing the music pumping from the club’s sound system. He even loses track of the ragged-sounding breaths that he utters on every exhale. All that registers is the thudding of his pulse in his ears as Tim struggles to keep from making a fool of himself by coming all over himself without (currently) being touched.

Jason presses an open-mouthed kiss to Tim’s lean thigh. The kiss itself isn’t much. It’d be chaste if not for how Tim’s dick twitches and drools precome down the flushed length of his erection just from Jason’s proximity to his groin. Tim shudders against the wall and tries to pull Jason back to where he wants the other man to go.

“Hold on,” Jason says as he rubs his big hands over Tim’s thighs. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Jason leans in the moment that Tim stops shuddering and flexing for him, lips parted wide enough to take Tim’s dick into his mouth. When he starts to fuck himself on Tim’s shaft, Tim makes a noise like he’s been sucker-punched. His knees buckle slightly, nearly sending him pitching forward before Jason’s huge hands return to his hips and push him back, holding him against the wall so that he can’t go anywhere.

Tim doesn’t have a rhythm.

He has Jason’s hard hands on his hips —

Jason’s throat opening up around him —

Jason’s tongue curling at that one spot just underneath the head of his shaft —

With Jason’s hands holding him fast against the wall, Tim can’t even thrust his hips. All he can do is stand there and take it. The thought makes Tim even hotter than before, and he whines, fingers sliding over Jason’s scalp as he feels his body tighten with further pleasure.

“J— Jason,” Tim chokes out as his body tips over that final edge of orgasm. He comes harder than he has in ages, body shaking hard enough that Jason has to struggle to keep them both from simply falling over to the ground. When Tim can think again, he glances down at Jason’s face.

There’s a smile there again, a sharp-edged smirk that almost seems to hit Tim in the gut. On top of that, there’s a smear of an almost-translucent fluid near one corner of Jason’s wide mouth.

It’s his, Tim realizes suddenly.

His come smearing across Jason’s swollen lips.

Oh boy.

The sight of Jason sitting there and smiling up at him as though he didn’t  _just_ finish blowing him makes Tim feel a little light-headed from how fast desire hits him. Tim reaches out and strokes his thumb over the side of Jason’s mouth, wiping it clean.

“Was it good for you, baby?” Jason’s smirk is so smug that it makes Tim’s teeth itch.

Tim rolls his eyes but then drops down onto his knees in front of Jason without waiting for the other man to make space for him on the narrow balcony. The concrete floor scrapes at Tim’s knees, opening cuts that sting faintly in the air before Tim forcefully puts the pain out of his mind.

“I can’t believe that you’d ask that,” Tim says, smiling as Jason’s hands move to pet his bare skin. Still mostly bare, Tim sighs for the firm stroke of Jason’s fingers over his scarred skin. “Let me return the favor and I’ll show you just how good it was.” Tim reaches for Jason’s button fly and rubs the palm of his hand over the bulge that Jason’s erection makes in the black denim.

Jason covers Tim’s hand with one of his own. “Round two can wait until we’re out of here,” he says lowly, his deep voice seemingly  _rich_  with promise. “Think you can wait until we get to one of my safehouses?”

Eventually, Tim nods his head. “I— I think so,” he says. “But I don’t have my bike with me —”

“No sweat,” Jason says. “Mine’s parked out back.”


End file.
